


a heart like yours

by bbbeaner



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, rarepair hell, someone save us
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbbeaner/pseuds/bbbeaner
Summary: Their love was forbidden, Shigure knew this. For the Prince of Nohr and the rightful King of Hoshido, the monarchs of two warring countries, to even fraternise was unspeakable. To fall in love was treason punishable by death. And yet, Shigure’s heart still yearned for warmth of Shiro’s when night fell over their encampments and he laid alone in his bunk.
---
Shigure/Shiro fic for a friend's birthday.





	

**Author's Note:**

> we have been crying over these two for months, someone please send help

In the dead of the night, Shigure laid awake. On the other side of the bed, Shiro was fast asleep, his strong arm draped almost protectively over Shigure’s bare waist, the dim light from the candle reflecting off muscles of his back.

It was one of the few nights the two were could spend together, basking in each other’s warmth - a warmth they could never utter a word of once the sun rose over the hills. Their love was forbidden, Shigure knew this. For the Prince of Nohr and the rightful King of Hoshido, the monarchs of two warring countries, to even fraternise was unspeakable. To fall in love was treason punishable by death. And yet, Shigure’s heart still yearned for warmth of Shiro’s when night fell over their encampments and he laid alone in his bunk. 

Shigure often dreamed of a world where Shiro and him were not on opposing sides of the war, a world where there was no war all together. In these dreams, he and Shiro would often bathe in a lake by a waterfall – one eerily similar to the one at which he first confessed the secrets of his heart to him. They would splash and dive to the depths of the pool, and afterwards, lay bare on the grass, drying in the heat of the sun. In his dreams, he and Shiro would always be laughing together – they would be carefree and happy together. In his dreams, they would share smiling kisses in a wild open field of flowers as pink as their cheeks.

In his dreams, they would have their youth to themselves.

These visions fill his sketchbook and canvases, seizing his mind in moments of inspiration. Shiro would often express the same desires to him; his calloused hands intertwined with Shigure’s, brown eyes shining in the lowlight of the oil lamp.

“ _I wouldn’t want anything else but to be free with you_ ,” he would whisper. 

However, in his heart, Shigure knows this fantasy could never be.

They both knew very well that fate was cruel.

 

* * *

  

The first time they met, Shiro was a mystery to him.

As a child, Shigure always felt calmed flying high above the clouds – yet, he did not fear heights as much as he did in that moment. He was sent ahead of the army on reconnaissance over the heavily forested Hoshidan lands. Carelessly, he did not anticipate a squadron of enemy archers to be patrolling the forest below. Before he could even react, arrows filled the sky and his pegasus bucked and swerved as she was pierced in her wing. As the forest he was flying above came closer and closer, Shigure shut his eyes.

The hard, rough branches of the forest’s canopy interrupted his free fall. When he finally impacted with the cold ground, he was bruised, wounded, and light-headed. Unable to move nor did he have the energy to, he laid there, bleeding out onto the numbing forest soil. Perhaps he would die here, unknown to the world. It would be a fitting end for him, he thought. A fallen songbird that died without a word.

Shigure could have sworn he heard footsteps before he lost consciousness.

 

\---

 

When he woke, he could feel the heat of a fire on the side of his face. He could hear running water from a nearby stream and the singing of birds in the distance. If he listened closely, he could hear someone humming softly. Perhaps he was hallucinating. Perhaps he was dead. Shigure slowly opened his eyes, not to the canopy of trees he had passed out under, but to a clear, starry night sky. 

Confused and disorientated, he tried to sit up, but was immediately struck with an excruciating pain in his side.

“ _Argh!_ ” he cried out, falling back down to the cloth laid under him. 

“You’re awake,” said a voice. 

The voice was deep, yet youthful at the same time. Carefully turning his head to the direction of the voice, Shigure had never wanted to be dreaming than in this moment.

It was Shiro, High Prince of Hoshido. Commander of his family’s sworn enemy.

“You…” Shigure breathed.

“Try to not move so much, you’ll reopen your wounds.” Shiro said, his eyes focused on the fire. “I just dressed them a few moments ago.” 

The cool night air raised goosebumps on Shigure’s bare chest. 

A silence fell upon the both of them. Shigure remained fixed on Shiro’s figure. He was not wearing the armour that Shigure had so often seen him in on the battlefield; his armour laid propped up on a nearby log, along with a Hoshidan lance and _Raijinto_ – an inheritance from his late father. Instead, he wore a loose Hoshidan tunic, tied at the waist. Had he not known who he was, Shigure would have thought Shiro was a passing-by villager.

But he does know, and the fact clouds his mind even further. 

“I found you passed out in a puddle of your own blood in the forest,” Shiro said softly, breaking the silence. “And your pegasus a little ways away in worse shape than you were.”

Shigure’s eyes widened at the mention of his pegasus, but remained silent. 

Shiro shifted, and though his bangs, Shigure swore he could see the faintest smile in the warm light of the fire.

“She was a stubborn one – even though she was hurt herself, she wouldn’t let me drag your body to the stream at first,” he chuckled, “But after she saw me dress your wounds, she finally calmed down. You’ve got a loya-“

“ _Why?_ “ Shigure cut in. “Why did you…” 

He could not find the words. This entire situation did not make sense to him. His sworn enemy, the king of the country his own kingdom was warring against, finding him near death in the forest. And instead of ending his life, he had… dressed his wounds?

“Why didn’t I kill you?” Shiro finally turned his gaze to him, his eyes clouded with a certain… emotion that Shigure could not identify.

Shigure swallowed, gaze unwavering from Shiro’s.

“There’s no honour in killing someone whose already about to die.” Shiro paused, then turned away once more. “… Should I have found your brother instead, I wouldn’t have acted differently.”

His mind was reeling. His throat felt dry, and for some reason he did not know, tears pricked at his eyes. Nothing he had said made sense to Shigure. Why were their kingdoms fighting a war, shedding so much blood, when the commander of one of the armies was not willing to kill?

“But,” Shigure whispered, a lump growing in his throat. “My father… killed yours.”

He was grasping at straws, and yet he did not care. He wanted a reason.

Shiro tensed, but smiled grimly a moment after. He said nothing. The incident had only recently occurred a couple of seasons ago. Shigure knew he was still grieving, Word of Shigure’s father slaying the commander of Hoshido had reached Nohr’s inner castle, and while celebrations were held, he did not rejoice. He knew the son of Ryoma would rise to the throne, and half a season later that he did. A boy barely older than he was, forced to lead a country to war. Fate was cruel, Shigure had thought. He couldn’t help but think the same months later. 

“Why?” Shigure pressed again, his voice coming out barely audible.

Shiro stood and turned his back to him, facing the forest they had came from.

“You have a nice voice. I’ve heard you on the battlefield,” Shiro said. 

“Though…” he trailed off, still facing the forest. “I’d like to hear a song sung for the living one day.”

 

\---

 

When Shigure woke the next morning, Shiro was gone and the fire was out.

 

* * *

  

Many times Shigure had thought back to that moment, searching for an answer he could never find. Later into their secret relationship, he had once or twice asked Shiro again, and each time he would answer, “ _It was the right thing to do._ ”

Shiro always acts with his heart, Shigure found. When his own heart was lost and pained with the weight of war, the loss of his comrades, Shiro’s heart was there to heal his own. He had the heart of a leader, strong and unwavering. Perhaps this was the reason why he was drawn to him. 

Shigure could not do the same. He couldn’t trust his heart with blind eyes. Even when the two are together for the first time since the change of seasons, and Shiro’s calloused fingers are brushing his ice blue hair from his eyes, Shigure is thinking of the dangers of their meeting. Should they ever get caught, they would both be executed. This he is sure.

There are times in which his fears take hold of him when he is alone in his cot, tears falling from his cerulean eyes like water from the waterfall at which they fell in love. Tears from both fear of the future and frustration for the unfairness of fate. Tears for a future they’ll never have together, for a wedding that will never happen, children who will never come to be theirs. Each time he confesses his internal despair to Shiro, his tears are wiped away and replaced with soft kisses to his eyelids.

“ _I love you,_ ” Shiro would softly whisper. 

“ _And I love you,_ ” Shigure would choke out through his tears.

“ _Then that’s all we’ll ever need._ ” 

Shigure often wished his heart was as fearless as Shiro’s.

 

* * *

 

He turned his head to face Shiro, still blissfully sleeping, his bare shoulders rising and falling with every breath. To Shigure, the way Shiro is in this moment, his dark hair unruly as ever and expression relaxed and free of worry, is more beautiful than any painting could ever capture. He often finds himself entranced by Shiro’s sleeping form in the moments prior to his departure, before he returns to the harsh reality of their lives. Each time, it pains his heart to leave without knowing when their next meeting will be, or if it will ever occur at all. 

He did not want to leave – not now, not ever. 

It is then that Shigure understood. He understood the reasons behind Shiro’s fearless actions regarding their relationship, why he seemed to be unfazed by the consequences of their affair. Their love may be forbidden by politics and war, a cruel joke made by fate, but it is their love all the same. His heart belongs to Shiro, and he is sure Shiro’s heart is for him alone. Should they get discovered and executed (his breath still hitches at the thought), they are at least together. Perhaps, in the afterlife, they would be able to be together without consequences.

And yet, he still does not want that to become reality. Shigure wants the war to end, for their families to cease fighting, for them to live on and love without fear for their lives.

In his heart, he makes a promise for peace. He will continue to fight for peace between their kingdoms, for his love for Shiro. For once, his heart will be as fearless as Shiro’s. One day, his fantasy will be made true. One day, his heart will be strong for the both of them. 

One day, he will sing a song for the living – a song of love bloomed in the midst of war – for Shiro.

That night, Shigure lingered a few more moments in Shiro’s embrace before departing.


End file.
